


Peach Dreams are Made of These

by breejah



Series: 'Quick Fic/Photo Prompt' Labyrinth Challenges [4]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah
Summary: Jareth is left frustrated and alone after Sarah breaks out of the peach ballroom dreamscape. Swept up in his frustrations, he chooses to handle the issue himself. Complete one-shot.





	Peach Dreams are Made of These

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 4F Challenge for the LFFL Facebook group. Challenge: Create a 50-500 word 'porn without plot' based off a photo prompt.  
> Photo prompt located here: https://goo.gl/XG9Lxa

_The damned girl and the damned peach! How dare she!_

Jareth was in a furious mood as soon as Sarah shattered the dreamscape, rendering him aroused and frustrated and alone. He sat there, clenching the scrying crystal in his fist so tightly that small hairline cracks began to splinter out from where his fingertips gripped the smooth cool surface of the orb. Snarling at the crystal, he crushed it to sand with a vicious jerk of his hand and turned his gaze to stare out over the orchard as the sun dipped low over his looming castle in the distance, wondering what to do next with the girl.

_If she wasn’t so damned persistent, we could have…._

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the wheelbarrow that held his form, trembling with the effort to hold back the tidle wave of his anger. He was enraged, beyond anything he’d felt in years, at both himself and her.  Sarah – such a precious thing, his young human runner, with the will that could match a Fae. And him, a _King_ , brought to his knees by a mixture of attraction and affection he didn’t want or need for this girl. It was humiliating and he wished he’d never met her. Hips lips twitched, not overlooking the irony.

_But to taste her…_

Jareth shifted, feeling a heaviness bloom in his groin as he remembered how she’d looked in the dreamscape. So damned innocent, yet so damned hungry, not quite sure what she was seeing and not quite sure if she wanted to dabble but feeling compelled to. So, she’d danced and twirled amongst his court, the other Fae so curious about this runner that had seemed to progress so far in mere hours. Oh, they’d laughed and enjoyed mocking him as he’d stared, helplessly fascinated but furious at his response at the same time, as she made her way around the ballroom – but when he had her in his arms, all he could think about was _her_. Holding her, crushing her against him, taking the innocence out of her eyes and replacing it with the knowledge of what a true lover’s touch would feel like.

What would she have done if he had managed that? Would she have pushed him away and cried? Would she have blushed and stammered and been coy? Would she have been as ravenous as he was?

The unanswered questions were driving him mad, heightening his need of the girl and branding his gut like a hot iron. As he re-imagined her in the dream and played out all the various ways she could have reacted to him had he acted before she’d broken off the dream, Jareth tugged at the fastenings of his breeches before he realized what he was doing and gripped himself, dragging his hand tightly across his eager stiffness.

Groaning, he continued to tug swiftly at his arousal, imaging a dream where she had not shoved him away but embraced him, her tongue shyly touching his as he swept her away from the ballroom and against a far pillar in the corner of the room. What would she have tasted like? She smelled like strawberries and sweet lilac and he wondered if she’d taste the same.

Before long, he was panting, straining in the wheelbarrow as he found himself caught up in the illusion. Would she have let him untie the fastenings in her hair? Would she have let him dip his mouth along her collarbones and nibble along the opalescent bodice? Would she have done something to him in turn?

With an anguished moan, he climaxed quickly, jerking at his sex in hard, fast movements as his orgasm ripped through him. He sagged as the last remnant of his climax pushed through his hips and he blinked, opening his eyes and staring up at the moon, ashamed at what he’d done.

Swiftly standing, he cleaned himself and readjusted his clothes with a little magic and stalked back to the castle alone, determined to forget the little episode in his orchard and his attraction to the girl.

She would not win. She could not win. He would make sure of it.


End file.
